“Police! Keep your hands where we can see them.” Their flashlights pinned the man in strong, bright light.
The burglar jumped and raised his hands in the air. “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot! I got nothing!”
Carly sensed a combination of fear and surprise in the man’s voice. He thought we’d left to chase his buddy.
Two assisting units roared into the lot, and the area was awash in more light from both headlights and spotlights. Joe and Carly took the man into custody. Carly led him to their patrol car while Joe contacted hospital security to open the building so they could conduct a thorough search.
Sweat poured down the crook’s face. He smelled like a noxious mixture of cigarettes and dirty sweat socks. She leaned him against the patrol car and emptied his pockets on the hood on the off chance there was something from the security offices on his person. All she found was a filthy nylon wallet, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and some change. Once certain he wasn’t in possession of anything else, she seated him in the back of the unit. Next, she emptied the contents of the bag he’d thrown out the window. Turning on the spotlight, she illuminated everything and surveyed what the thief saw fit to steal.
The bag was full of papers, spreadsheets. Carly frowned, muttering, “This makes no sense.” There were no valuable trinkets, just papers with names and times. As she read more carefully, she saw that the sheets were schedules outlining the strength and positioning of hospital security personnel. She looked back at the crook in the car, and he looked away. He was a skinny, dirty man with the ruined teeth of a speed freak. Carly opened his wallet and retrieved a driver’s license. His name was Stanley Harper, and he was thirty years old, a resident of Las Playas.
She sat in the passenger seat of the patrol car and input Stanley’s information into the computer to check for warrants. Her search brought up two hits.
“Mr. Harper, did you know you have two outstanding traffic warrants?” Carly spoke to the man through the custody cage, looking over her left shoulder while she talked. “And you just got off parole for—surprise of surprises—burglary. Doesn’t look like you’ve learned your lesson.”
“I ain’t saying nothing. I want to call my lawyer.”
Carly flinched at words she hated to hear. Now she couldn’t ask him about the paperwork.
“You know the drill. As soon as you’re processed, you can call Santa Claus if you want.”
“My lawyer will do. I’ll be out before you finish your paperwork.”
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
About the Author
An Interview with Janice Cantore
Discussion Questions
Accused Page 28
